Emmanuel's Song

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A Christmas poem that I wrote while watching the King's brass, an onsomble of brass instruments.

Submitted: July 04, 2010

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Submitted: July 04, 2010



At least, no one knew...yet.

As a melodious song began to play,

The notes of trumpets and trombones

Twirled around each other ,

To give delight to the ear.

All craned their necks

To see the artists at work,

Painting what they willed

On the blank canvas

Of their audience.

Some studied,

Some looked on,

And others sat mouths agape,

All reveling in the notes

Coming from the instruments

Of the master musicians.

Eyes open,

And eyes closed

could all see the magic before them.

How awesome is the one

That made these master musicians.

How great are the one’s hands

who made the master musicians hands

to play so beautifully.

How awesome,

How great,

is the power of our God.

The trumpets continue,

the band plays on.

The trombone shines in the rays

Of the spotlight it was meant to be played in

giving glory to the one and only Emmanuel.


the one who came,

The one who gave


to become like the ones

who could not understand.

Who was born in a stable

as a helpless babe

to be taken care of by those

who could not understand

the magnitude of his being.

God as man,

The Prince of Peace.

The Anointed One.

Amazing Grace

how sweet the sound

of trumpet, of drum

that blend together to tell of God’s peace

and saving grace.

Still held spellbound

the captivated audience claps

after every number,

after every song,

and if they could...

After every breath

of the master musicians.

Dimly lit the church is a magical place.

A place full of mystery of God’s love,


the question hangs in the air,

who will uncover the next spark to an understanding

of God’s love?

The pianist plays as the brass rest,

yet the spell is not broken,

nor will it be until the last notes of the concert

fade into the cold, crisp, clear night.

Which may not happen for a while as a piece of Handel’s Messiah

floats across the auditorium,

never does the audience’s attention waver.

"Have you heard the news?"

The trumpet blares

"Messiah is born!"

"Come and worship at the manger."

Adds the trombone.

The notes around the audience envelope them

in a warm blanket of Christmas cheer.

"Good tidings and joy to all listening!"

the instruments shout

Emmanuel is here. God with us.

What a holy night it was,

a new chance for all.

The Son of God

came to earth with the sole purpose

to die for you.

We celebrate the night he came

the evening he arrived

by a natural birth

that came about with supernatural miracles

in a little town called Bethlehem

that wasn’t supposed to be important

With a teenaged girl

who wasn’t supposed to be important

And a little boy

who no one knew would save the world from their sins

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